


The 33rd Campaign

by BNZG



Series: The 38th Campaign Sidestories [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: 38th Campaign, Alien Invasion, Backstory, Bad Ending, Giants, Macro/Micro, Multi, Original Character(s), Prequel, Russia, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BNZG/pseuds/BNZG
Summary: A prequel to the 38th Campaign.Fifteen years after the Shenirians have wiped out a significant portion of the human race and enslaved the survivors. But even after so much time has passed, there still remain independent groups of humans who still manage to stay away from their control. Some try to fight back. Others try to remain hidden.All want to just survive.In the ravaged nation of Russia, lives a conglomerate of survivors who wants to do just that.But unfortunately, it's a foregone conclusion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set five years before the main story with a different cast of characters and location and is the origins of a character that is in the main story.

He was going to die.   
  
They were catching up so quickly, that he knew there was no way he could escape.   
  
His legs, made brittle by the cold and harsh winds, kept moving forward in a desperate...nearly delirious effort to just get  _away.  
  
_ His face felt like ice, pelted by the harsh snow and hail that made his world incredibly white.   
  
He was going to die.   
  
He left everyone behind.   
  
 _Everyone._  
  
He couldn't turn back, as much as he had wanted to.   
  
But even in his state of desperation, in the fringes of his mind, he knew there was no place to go back to. Nothing.   
  
It was all gone. Everything. Everyone. Gone.   
  
He was alone.   
  
He was alone, and scared, and cold and miserable and in pain and...   
  
He was going to die.   
  
The footsteps that shook the very Earth were now more audible than ever before. And he had to fight to not stumble on his legs.   
  
He was sure his sad and agonized tears were frozen from the cold, but he couldn't tell how much of his chattering teeth was from the overwhelming fear or cold. He knew it was both, but...   
  
The shadow stretched over him, long and harrowing and inescapable.   
  
It was then that it occurred to him that it was over for him. Especially when that great hand descended in front of him to halt his advancement.   
  
He had been so breathless that he could barely turn away to try and run a different direction. But of course, it was too late.   
  
The hand rushed at him before he even had the chance to take another step. In seconds, he was borne aloft, the air rushing at him in a cold, powerful sweep. He had been too exhausted to scream, with only a yelp getting caught up in his throat.   
  
He was in an enormous hand, with fingers that dwarfed him, hanging over his head precariously. The palm he was lying on was frighteningly warm, in stark contrast to the icy chill around him.   
  
He was on his back in the giant's palm, forced to look up at the gigantic head that was above him. He was silhouetted by the surrounding monochrome white of clouds and snow; a standing, gray living shadow that was a like a living statue.   
  
He could hear himself whimpering as he was brought closer to the enormous face, shivering uncontrollably as he was forced to meet those gigantic eyes that focused on his entire being.   
  
Those impossibly large eyes, with pupils that shone like ebony as they narrowed onto him. Any traces of hope he had before had vanished once he had looked into those abyssal orbs.   
  
He sobbed.   
  
He was going to die.   
  


\----- 

_One week prior..._

__

_St. Petersburg, Russia  _  
  
"What the...it's in  _damn_  Ogham!?  _Seriously!?"_  
  
Viktor Smirnov's back began to grow stiff as he sat on the hard, wooden chair with too low of a backrest for him to recline back comfortably. Nonetheless, he didn't bother trying to get comfortable as he opened yet another foreign dictionary as Chao Shen let out a low, annoyed groan before wiped his hand across his eyes. Viktor looked across the dingy, makeshift and sorry excuse for a library and immediately saw the irritation in the other man's dark eyes.   
  
Feeling slightly apprehensive but genuinely curious, the burlier man asked, "What's the matter?"   
  
The Chinese man jammed his finger to the print that he managed to have scrawled down from the green monitor, clenching his teeth as he harshly prodded at the text written on the paper in front. "They sent a message that is in one- _third_ Gaelic, a third Arabic, and the rest in Greek. Now the Greek and Arabic isn't so bad, but-"   
  
"The one in Ogham?" Viktor finished, pushing out from his chair to get a closer look at the message on the paper that was on Chao Shen's "desk," a semi-rotting cabinet with the drawers pulled out to make room for his legs, just like Viktor's own desk. As expected, it was all in different fonts and mesh of languages, one sentence that would be written in Arabic would have the next in Greek. The Greek sentence would have several sentences before going back to Arabic. Arabic would have several sentences, but the next were written in several symbols that immediately made Viktor raise an eyebrow.   
  
"Woah..." Viktor just said, unable to really comment more, While Ogham had been seen before from time to time, it would only be by a few words, at one point, a sentence at most. But that message, which was already one of the longer ones they usually received, had been riddled with the ancient letter as countless spots. And with only two books that went into detail about the language, he knew it was going to be a complete and utter  _bitch_  to decipher. "They must have came from one of the more major checkpoints if they had to resort to using something as insane as  _Ogham."  
  
_ "That's what I'm thinking...and until I can actually get this shit translated, I won't know which one.  _Dammit!"_   Chao hissed as he stood up from his own chair and went to search one of the lopsided bookcases for the book that went into Irish language. Truth be told, Viktor couldn't help Chao with this, not with his  _own_ message he needed to decipher.   
  
In the first few years of the Shenirian invasion, back when some technology could still work without the ludicrously strong jammers or scramblers that were now needed to prevent major interference, it had quickly become standard practice for humanity to communicate surreptitiously through mixing languages together to send messages and codes to each other. Of course, over a very quick period of time, Shenirians had picked up on this secret and began to tear into these jumbled encrypted ways of communication with unbelievable ease, locating groups of hidden, human refugees easily once they did. Again and again, to the point that the encryption process got harder and harder. Using telegraphs and CB radios was how most messages spread, aside from archaic computers that weren't trained to be picked up by Shenirian detection systems like the more modern ones had been.   
  
Utilizing any English in messages had almost immediately died out the moment people began to realize what the aliens were doing, not that it had impacted Victor as much, speaking English as a second language only on occassion. At least, at first. Eventually, so did Spanish and French, which many had fallen back on, if only for a short while. Even Cantonese and Portuguese proved risky to use in messages nowadays, needing to be used rarely. Now, in order to have some sort of relatively safe way of getting any sort of electronic message across, the remnants of free humans were forced to turn to the more ancient and previously obsolete languages, using words and phrases that hadn't been around since antiquity that the aliens wouldn't recognize at first glance should they manage to hack through the heavily guarded systems that were some of humanity's last ways to remaining in touch with one another. Messages would be a mix between the old and the new, the mundane to the incomprehensible. For the ones tasked with deciphering these messages, it was a rigorous mental exercise.  
  
In a strange sort of way, Viktor had become a talented polyglot. Not to the level of Chao though, who had came to Russia as an international student before the invasion and had became fluent in the language shortly after coming to and being forced to stay in the St. Petersburg checkpoint when the gigantic aliens began to heavily crack down on any Chinese resistance forces, making it too risky for him to even attempt to return back to the broken, ruined vestiges of the great, vast glass city of what was once known as Shanghai.     
   
China, like the United States, had been one of the countries hit the hardest by the invasions, due to its incredible population density. Even Russia, which was immensely ravaged by the invaders, hadn't suffered as significant a loss as the more southern nation. Viktor had remembered his once shy yet kind classmate becoming despondent for quite some time when he had heard the news all those many years ago that there would be no home for him to return to; that where one of Asia's largest cities, or even one of the largest cities one Earth, had been forcibly occupied by the massive aliens that had razed everything, history, culture and significance to the ground in the name of their expansion. The untold millions who died like insects under these giants' conquests, as if it were their lives held no meaning to them. Catatonic and miserable, he watched the man began to waste away for a while until he, as well as other survivors and the like, began to help the man adapt and get back on his feet once more. And slowly, but steadily, he began to recover from the loss of his nation as it became clear that he didn't need to suffer alone. Now, fifteen years later, he was one of the most integral members of the Petersburg checkpoint.   
  
But now, he was a bit frustrated and mumbling to himself as he was forced to search for one of the books that had the Ogham language. He already had the the one about Irish languages on his desk, romanized and with a dictionary. He just needed to find the one which actually showed the meaning of the skitter of lines, which would be harder to find since it was so rarely used. Viktor could only shake his head and sympathy and walk back to his own cluttered, creaky station, where the message he was currently taking apart was only halfway translated.   
  
He sat down and rested his head in his hand as he looked at the translated part of the message once more:   
  
 _From the Kopino Checkpoint:  
  
A group of forty-three people from the _ _Southern Yakutsk Checkpoint are on their way to the St. Petersburg checkpoint as we speak. We estimate by the time you see this message, they'll be there within roughly three to four days time if there aren't any significant Shenirian activity within the region. Fourteen of them wish to remain in Petersburg but, according to their leader, most of them are on their way to the Estonian Checkpoint. Please provide accommodations for them to rest for three days._  
  
 _Things of note: Two people in the group need insulin shots. One person had sustained a broken arm and may need more pain medication. Four of them are under the age of ten. All of them have been given maps of the safe routes and landmine locations around the checkpoint borders. According to sources, we expect about twenty centimeters of snow and P-O-S-S-..._  
  
The thirty-four year old man was still in the process of translating, but he was sure that the next word was the Swahili word for  _possible._ Never, in a thousand years, would he think that he would be actually reading  _Swahili_ of all languages, but stranger things have happened. Everyone knew that from experience.   
  
"The Yakutsk survivors are close by," Viktor casually commented, thumbing through the Swahili book to make sure the he was reading correctly. Several times had he made a mistake, particularly earlier on when he first took up the duty as one of the translators of the group, to mistake one word for another, which had to be rectified after he went through the agonizing process of proofreading. "Three to four days away now."   
  
"Really now?" Chao asked, the frustration leaving his voice to genuine intrigue, "They'd been travelling for over half a year! I'm surprised they're able to stay on the move like that."   
  
Upon realizing that the word was indeed  _"possible,"_  he translated it to Russian and focused on the next word, which he knew from seeing it before in Korean meant  _hail._ "Probably had to take the roundabout way to avoid where the new Shenirian city is.They're making great time, considering that they had managed to get this far in almost seven months."   
  
"Well not just that, but the fact that they've gone undetected after all this time" Chao pointed out, which Viktor himself had to mentally admit he was equally impressed by that fact. "You know, no one usually gets past the central areas without encountering... _them._ Especially since they expanded their territory."   
  
"I heard they left in February. They had to take several breaks to not get hypothermia or snow-blinded. Still, you'd think these people went under KGB training at the rate their going. They only lost three people too."   
  
"Wait... _three people?"_ Chao's head turned back to look at the bigger man, eyes wide in amazement. "Only  _three_  people!? That's incredible!"   
  
"You're telling me," Viktor commented before turning his head back to the half-deciphered message: the upper half of the paper held the translated Russian above, while the lower half was a mix between Korean, Swahili, Dutch and ancient Chinese. It was truly a pain to get through. "I wonder if they cut through the north or the south. The south has more Shenirian activity but the north gets  _brutal._ But then again, they're probably even more used to the cold than we are."   
  
 _"You_ are, you mean," Chao corrected as he seemed to pinpoint the location of the book he was looking for. It wasn't as tattered from use as the others, making it stand out a bit more from the sloping shelf. "I've been in this country for a decade and a half and I still can't get used to how cold it gets here. It's so shitty."   
  
"What makes you think that I'm used to it?" hummed Viktor in mirth as he continued to translate the rest of the sentence. it was definitely talking about the expected weather for the next few days. "You think, just because I'm Russian, I can take the cold?"     
  
"Yes," Chao answered bluntly, but his tone beheld its joking manner, "Don't like you can't. I know you live and breathe ice and snow. You probably wrestled grizzly bears in January and celebrated your victory with barrels vodka. I got my share from eating the bear meat with chopsticks."   
  
"I thought stereotyping had vanished many years ago," Viktor chuckled as he continued to write the translated words, "Thanks for reminding me it hasn't."   
  
"Just trying what Artur had done." Chao said with a dry laugh, "If we've made fun of our situation, might as well make fun of each other."   
  
"I didn't know he said that," Viktor said, smiling. He wouldn't put it past him though.   
  
Chao had now returned to his seat, opening the book he finally managed to acquire. "It was a couple days ago when they were passing out rations. I forgot what we were talking about but he said it at one point."   
  
Viktor, now a bit more focused on trying to decipher the rest of the message, merely let out a noncommital, "huh," before he went back to the arduous task of translating. Chao also had nothing more to say as he focused on his own task at hand. And just like that, the room descended into silence with the only sounds of scriching against paper and the flap of pages being heard. The occasional creaking or bored sigh, but nothing more as time went by.   
  
It was about half an hour later when the silence was disturbed by the opening of a door.   
  
Both occupants turned to see Zhanna coming into the room, looking fairly winded as she took a seat in the worn and patchy couch that was next to one of the bookcases. She exhaled and stared at the roof. "God, that was rough."   
  
"Welcome back?" Viktor offered, he turned his head back to the message he was still trying to figure out but kept his ear opened, ready to listen to the scout's tale of venturing around the city's outskirts. "How did it go?"   
  
"All things considered, pretty well." Zhanna answered in a huff. "Turns out the pet store actually did have some ibuprofen left after all. And we were able to find some fruit trees along the way. Aleks and Leonid were able to bring three entire barrels full of apples. We might be lucky to see about planting a tree in area if we find a good spot where we won't be noticed. Speaking of..."   
  
Zhanna leaned forward, the hair from her long, dark brown hair, pinned in a messy, low-sided bun slipping from her shoulder to hang down. Her eyes, bright green and observant, took in the forms of the seated men. "I can tell a group is coming over. You two don't usually stay this quiet unless there is."   
  
Chao nodded, still perusing through the book at his side. "Viktor says it's the Yakutsk group. They're coming here in a few days."   
  
"Yakutsk!? Are you serious? They haven't gotten picked off? Wow." Zhanna remarked, genuinely impressed. That was something she rarely was these days. "And they had set out during the winter too... So, you got a message from which Checkpoint?"   
  
"Kopino," Viktor answered, still translating. "They'll be here in a few days' time."   
  
"They really are some incredible people still around this day and age," Zhanna commended before she let out a long sigh, "What do we need to get?"   
  
"I'm not done just yet, but this is I know your crew will need to get so far: clean insulin shots, more bandages and more food. Good thing you guys got those apples. Really. We'll need three days supply of them though. Oh, and a few more blankets."   
  
"We won't have any insulin," the brunette said brusquely. "We've already picked most of this place clean as much as we could. They'll have to work with the Byetta. And even bandages might be tricky. But Natalya's contingent has already gathered enough blankets from the group that came in three months ago. They're dusty, but still good."   
  
"I figured as much about the insulin," Viktor said, unfazed. After many years of living under alien occupation, such news no longer came as a surprise anymore of lack of specific supplies. Luxuries weren't abundant anymore, and neither were some necessities. The pharmacies were emptied out forever ago, like every other major store probably in the whole wide world, when people began to resort to loot to survive. More than likely, if he was one of the people who was heading to the Estonian Checkpoint, he'd have better luck there. Petersburg, like the world, have been robbed of nearly everything at this point. "Well, I don't know how long they've gone without it, so we'll have to wait when they get here. In any case, I'm still translating. I'll give you the full detail once I'm finished."   
  
"Alright," the woman acknowledged before looking at the dark-haired man on the other side, "Chao?"   
  
"Still working on my message," the Asian man said as he flipped through several pages before he found what he was looking for. "But so far, it doesn't seem like a message about a group coming. I barely got a tenth of it finished."   
  
"I don't envy you," she commented as she stood back up. "Well, until Viktor finishes his message, I'll be in the commons. There's nothing we can do until then. Also, they're going to give out the rations in twenty minutes. Don't lose track of time."   
  
"I actually had forgotten the time until you said that." Chao responded lowly, eyes still in the books. "Well, we'll both be there when the time comes."     
  
"See you there then," the woman told them as she made her leave, the sound of her boots creaking on the slightly rotted, wooden floor a reminder of the rather less than optimal environment they resided in. She closed the door behind herself, once again leaving the two in a quiet room.   
  
For a short time, at least, until Chao spoke up. "She was limping. Did you hear it?"   
  
"I did," Viktor replied, voice slightly more somber. "She hides it well."   
  
"It drives me insane. It really does. Like, how she could have a sprained arm or a twisted ankle and insist she's ready ago. It just doesn't sit well with me."   
  
Viktor didn't say anything. He knew Chao had feelings for the strong-willed woman, and worried about her constantly when she went out to scout. Which was understandable, given that scouts had to go out in all sorts of conditions to make sure the one thousand, two-hundred and eleven people of the  _Metro_   _Bezopasnaya Tochka,_ The Subway Checkpoint of St. Petersburg, were accommodated in the most necessary ways. And before that meant even taking the periodic expeditions to travel even further, into Shenirian territory if need be. After all, it would only be natural to look further when things became too scarce in familiar territory.   
  
"She'll be fine, she's been through worse." Viktor pointed out. The next three sentences were complete: A few of the incoming newcomers would need some new clothes. Also, Shenirian activity was still at a relative low as far as they knew. Conditions were looking relatively good. "If she really feels as though she has to sit one out, she will."   
  
"...I hope you're right. In any case, can you bring the rations to me? I'll probably be working on this absolute, pain-in-the-ass message all night long. Artur will get it."   
  
"I know he will. Just get at least a small nap in when you can." Viktor advised before he looked at the next part of his message. He felt exhausted just looking at the letters now. "You always manage to get the harder ones."   
  
"Well...I wanted to become a translator anyway. So it worked out in the end."   
  
"Fair," conceded the larger man. What a twist of fate that the two students who wanted to actually go into translation work were able to, in a strange way, achieve that dream? Although, given the extraordinary circumstances, it was far less enjoyable, knowing how detrimental their duty was there. "By the way, I'm finally getting to the part about the ages. The message had mentioned having four children with them."   
  
"Wait, did you say  _four_  c _hildren?_ Of the under ten-years-old variety?" Chao gasped, shocked. "Who in the world would bring children this  _far_ across the country?"   
  
"I don't know." Viktor answered honestly, "They must have been in a dire strait if they had to bring them out through the winter."   
  
Chao looked down at the barely translated message pensively, the yellow, light bulb above illuminating the countless scripts, texts, pages and papers in a low glow. "It really must be hard. Having children in a world like this...where there is no real future for them."   
  
As much as it pained the tall, bald man to say it, he completely agreed with Chao.   
  
The two of them had been young men barely into adulthood when the invasion began. Before then, they were allowed the luxury to dream and explore freely. To live a life of their own, and make decisions for their future, their happiness. But anyone born into this era no longer had those opportunities.   
  
In the converted subway hub, the number of children that weren't of teenage age had to be around forty at most. All of them had been born in the makeshift medical ward and had been raised by the community around them, but most of them could probably count on their hands how many of them had set foot above ground. They didn't know of a world that had once been for them outside of stories and books. As far as they knew...as far as they experienced, the world had belonged to the giants above, and they were to hide from them below. An uncomfortable truth that couldn't be denied.   
  
"Who's to say a future remains for  _us_ as well?" Viktor muttered grimly, with a learned hardness that came with years of living in the dimly lit world of the underground tunnels, one the constant verge of Shenirian detection.   
  
He heard the Chinese man's pencil stop writing for a moment, before starting back up again after a few seconds. He didn't reply, either unable to come up with an answer or his silence the only answer he could give.   
  
The room became quiet, as the two men continued to decipher and translate. Read, write, repeat. Again and again.  
  
It was the most they could do from then on.   
  


\----- 

"...Mikhail? Mikhail, wake up...we're almost there." 

The young, blonde boy began to slowly open his eyes. It took some considerable effort, given he had very little sleep to work with. 

He was still be carried on Sergei's back, his head leaning against his older brother's shoulder as his older sister began to tap at his cheek to arouse the six-year-old from his slumber. 

Sasha continued to prod the boy until he had finally lifted his head up from his brother's shoulder, looking quite out of it as he began to collect himself. Both of his siblings chuckled at his drowsiness but only for a little bit. 

Feeling himself lowered to the ground, Mikhail teetered a bit on his feet before he stabilized his footing on the ground. He had to raise a hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes and recuperate back into the waking world. 

He looked up to meet both of his siblings equally blue eyes, who were looking down at him with some worry. The voices of the others began to slowly filter in from the background and he was soon cognizant of the world they were in once more. 

The sun was beginning to go down, meaning Sergei would have to begin moving in stealth once more. The trees were more parted than before, and it was time to eat before they set out once more, this time, under the cover of darkness. 

He looked around to see the other members of the travelling group around him take a seat on the ground floor that was covered with the autumn leaves. The older man known as Dmitry was starting a fire, while his wife, Anastasia, brought the deer carcass over by the hooves. Wade was preparing the knife to carve while the others stood by the first fire that had been prepared rather quickly. The other adults were mainly were hacking away at some of the nearby trees, most likely hacking branches off the trees to gather more fire wood. Ivan was resting in on the blanket already. He had always been the one to rest quickly, even when the sun wasn't fully down yet. Sergei had said it was something to do with his blood sugar, whatever that meant. Both he and the elderly man, whose name he always forget, seemed to have that same problem. 

He only stared for a bit, still blinking away the tiredness from his eyes, when Pascal's authoritative voice called out to them all, forcing him to look at the leader of the group. 

"We're going to stay here to eat and rehydrate. There's a reservoir nearby, so I need about ten of you to come with me to fill the buckets. Also, Maxim, Konstantin, Sasha, Mary: start handing out the fruits and bread. The Voronovs will be preparing the three deer for us this time around. Understood?" 

"Understood," some of the survivors responded, although some didn't say anything but merely carried out their actions wordlessly. 

After all was said and done, Pascal and several others began to head off down the hill, while Sasha gave a pat on both of her brother's shoulders before she made her way to the assembled bags that held the rations for the day. Sergei looked down at his younger brother who began to stretch out to remove the last vestiges of sleep before returning his gaze with big, shimmering eyes that were a little glassy from being awaken. "I don't like travelling in the forests at night, Serg. That's when everything really looks scary. Especially if we encounter the wolves again." 

"Well, those weren't exactly  _'wolves'_ Mikhail, those were dogs. Wild dogs. Which...technically are wolves in a way." Sergei informed his younger brother. At nineteen years of age, he could vaguely remembered when dogs had been seen as adorable, friendly companions at large. And while some raised by humans still were, the surge of hungry, displaced canines had grown significantly over the years, forcing many to return to a feral state. "Besides, the dogs usually stay away. Remember, it's the  _giants_ we have to be careful of." 

"I know, but we haven't even seen them since we left. Besides, the wo- _dogs_  scare me. They have sharp teeth and make a lot of noise." 

"What about the husky in Kopino? She was friendly. You liked her." 

"Chella's different," Mikhail said with a pout, "Besides, she didn't bark at all. But the wild ones do." 

"What if there are dogs in St. Petersburg, Misha? We're almost there, you'll have to interact with them sooner or later." 

"No, we don't," pouted the child, rubbing his mittens together to generate more heat, "I thought we were going to Estonia. So we won't be there long enough." 

"No, but we don't know for  _sure_ if we're going to Estonia just yet." Sergei told him, kneeling down to meet his younger brother's eye. The teen's eyes were weary, undoubtedly from the long journey, but still held incredible kindness as he lifted a hand to lay it on his little brother's shoulder. "Not if St. Petersburg is truly as grand as they say. They have some many gateways there, Misha. Where you can run around and see some of the architecture. Don't you want to see a place that's intact? At least, more than most places are?" 

"I don't know," the boy answered honestly, putting his hands into the pockets of his coat. He could see his breath again. It was really cold now. "I mean, you and Sasha said that the place was nice. But you said Estonia was safer. That the giants don't roam around like they do here." 

"That's true," conceded the older blond as he took a moment to ruffle the child's hair before standing up. As his brother began to fix his earmuff's again, sending a halfhearted glare to his older sibling, he noticed he wasn't focusing on him for a moment before he returned his attention back to him. "Listen, we'll go from there once we get there. For now, let's just get our food. While I was carrying you, your stomach was growling so loudly, I thought for a moment a bear was nearby." 

Mikhail's cheeks puffed in embarrassment before he looked away as he turned away. "We didn't eat since this morning." 

Sergei smiled, grabbing his brother's hand to lead him to the shrinking line of people who were still waiting to gather their meals. "Well be glad, we get to eat now." 

The two walked across the forest floor to wait behind a middle-aged woman, who had no doubt been in her mid-twenties when it all happened. Mikhail had heard the stories from everyone, that the 'normal' that he lived was different from the 'normal' the older ones had lived. That the way he was living wasn't 'normal,' and that it never should have been 'that' way. 

He was confused. He had both Sergei and Sasha. They got to move around and travel. And he hadn't seen the giants up close. And that had been that way for a while. How was that not 'normal?' 

Nonetheless, it wasn't something he thought about often, only when it was brought up by the adults. Now, he just wanted some bread as a starter. He couldn't wait until they got the deer ready to eat. 

In time, the line moved up and soon, he was once again, in front of his seventeen-year-old sister, who gave him an amused yet loving look. "I would have thought the two of you would be in the front of the line. Especially you, Misha. You have a gigantic appetite for someone who still has has several years before puberty. You'd probably be able to take in our whole group's rations by yourself." 

"And I'm the one that does all the walking," Sergei added, holding out a gloved hand to take the apple piece being offered, while the other took the part of bread. "I think you'd be able to rival one of the Shenirians in an eating contest." 

Mikhail reached up and got his bread and apple before he looked back at his sister. "Ivan told me they eat people! Like, hundreds of people a day!" 

Sasha frowned a bit before giving her younger brother a reprimanding look, "Did you bother Ivan, again? I told you, he needs his rest!" 

"It wasn't me this time!" The six-year-old argued, before pointing to one of the two children who were sitting near the fire. "It was Andrei! I swear! We were Boyars and Andrei went through our arms too hard and crashed into him. It wasn't even my turn yet!" 

"Misha, you know Andrei's a troublemaker," Sasha scolded in a rather motherly tone, "Don't stay around him when unless others are watching. We're only a couple days away from the subway checkpoint. You don't want him to get you in trouble with  _them,_ do you?" 

"But me, Vera, and Samuil didn't do anything! We were playing normally!" 

"I know you three were but Andrei..." Sasha let out an exasperated sigh, "Look, Andrei is...he plays too hard. And he doesn't listen well to others. I know he's a big kid, but he isn't... _careful._ Do you know what I mean?" 

"But I-He's my friend!" 

"Okay, Misha. You can  _talk_ with him. You can play  _harmless_ games with him. But if he wants to do something you know I neither Sergei or I will like, you tell him 'no' and when he asks why, tell him I told you not too. Are you listening to me?" 

Mikhail gave a single nod, but his face looked as though he was crossed. "But his games are fun." 

Sergei was the one to talk to the child this time. "Misha, listen to your sister and I. When we get to the next checkpoint, you can play with Andrei in the tunnels all you want. But for now, we need you to be obedient. Can you do that for the two of us? Be a good listener?" 

Mikhael was quiet for a moment before he nodded. "Yes...I'll be good." 

Both of his older siblings smiled in apparent relief. His sister knelled down to lay a hand on his head. "Thanks Misha. Now then, you two get a move on so I can get ready to eat. I'm hungry too, you know?" 

Sergei let out a humorous hum before he gently grabbed his younger brother's hand again, who began to eat the bread. "I see you got a head start before me, you little snot. Come on, let's sit near the fire." 

The two did so, letting Misha prepare her own ration. It was seven minutes later when the group that had went to the resevoir had returned with filled buckets of water. The plopped the buckets down next to a log before they got their own rations. 

It was once everyone had gathered their food, the travelling survivors, minus the sleeping Ivan who refused to partake in his ration for the time being, began to eat. The deer had been properly cut open, emptied, and served over the other fire. Misha didn't even bother to look at the process, he had seen it done several times when they first began the long trek. He was just ready to have some meat in his stomach.   

As they were eating, one of the other children inched closer to Mikhael. It was Vera, the girl whose hair was done up in a long braid. "Hey Misha, when you finish eating, want to play tag?" 

Mikhael gave his older siblings a pleading look. "Can I?" 

Sergei chewed the piece of venison he had in his mouth before swallowing. "Is Andrei and Samuil playing with you?" 

Vera gave an annoyed look to the boys behind her before she spoke, her voice sounding a little hurt. "They said that they want to do _boy_ stuff and play Hunters, and that I couldn't play with them. They're stupid." 

"That's not a very nice thing to say, Vera." Sasha pointed out, crossing her arms. 

"But they  _are!_ They always do the bad games and they get hurt a bunch! Mom and Dad said it themselves!" The young, sandy-brown haired girl whined, "But Andrei the most! He always does the dumb stuff! Because he's a dummy!" 

Sergei frowned, shaking his head. "Now Vera, don't resort to name calling. That's not nice." 

"But... _they're_ not nice!" the girl countered, lips drawn up in an angry, but undeniably adorable pout. 

"Well, just because they aren't nice doesn't mean  _you_  have to be 'not nice,' right?" Sergei said before he tapped his younger brother on the shoulder. "Well, anyway, you can go play when you finish eating, Misha." 

"I already finished!" Mikhael proclaimed, pointing to his empty, greasy hands. Wiping his hands on his dark pants, the boy stood up and helped Vera to her own feet. Once the girl was standing, he pointed to a relatively empty patch from not too far away from the campsite. "Let's go play over there!"

The two rushed towards the grassy area as the boy's older siblings watched on. Sasha cupped her hands around her mouth before calling out, "Stay where we can see you," before she returned to eating her own meal, which was still only half finished. 

They observed the playing children, along with some other members of the group. They heard Pascal take a seat next to them as he joined them in watching on. "You two make such good parents. Your mother would have been so proud of you." 

"I'm sure," Sergei agreed. "But Mikhael's a good kid. When he's not around Andrei." 

"Ugh, even that kid's  _name_ makes my blood pressure flare up, and I'm not even diabetic." Pascal groaned rubbing his temples. "Seriously, as his father doesn't even bother to correct him, it's sickening." 

"Now don't say that, he's probably in earshot." Sasha warned, but the man just gave a solid huff. 

_"Good._ Let him hear. He needs to do something about that child or  _I_ will! The kid seems like more trouble then he's worth." 

Deciding to change the subject, Sasha quickly asked, "Is the Petersburg Checkpoint really that safe? It's a pretty big subway system. Wouldn't the Shenirians have looked around any of the stops?" 

"I heard that they purposefully made the outside of each one look pretty dilapidated, they hadn't bothered to look. Plus, there are several hidden entrances. When we get there, one of their scouts are going to lead us to one of them." Pascal looked around for a moment, watching everyone else in a conversation of their own. "Believe it or not, this is the first time I've been to this part of the country. All I know is that we're going to meet one of the runners at where the Winter Palace used to be." 

"I'm just surprised we're finally in range." Sergei said with relief. "I never imagined we'd be able to get this far on foot." 

"Don't celebrate until we get there," warned the leader warmly. "We might have be on the last leg of the trip, but we're aren't there yet. Wait until we're actually settled in before you get happy." 

"Still," said Sasha, who could see some of the ruined, colorful structures that were once buildings from a distance. "We're close. We've made so much progress...it's almost hard to believe." 

"Aren't you three planning to go to the Estonian Checkpoint? Once we get there, you'll only have three days to decide." 

The two siblings shared a knowing look for a moment before they looked back at their leader. Sasha was the one to speak. "We know. It's just...we'll have to see what's there before we decide. Especially since I heard it's so crowded. And big group's tend to have less supplies."

"Plus, I heard that Shenirians are beginning to expand throughout Russia. It's get riskier just staying in this country. It might be turned into a factory hold like they did with Japan and Brazil. Deborah told me about it, that they replace whole cities with them." 

"St. Petersburg was a major city...why hasn't it been transformed yet?" Sergei asked, genuinely curious and perplexed. 

But unfortunately, Pascal didn't know the answers to that as well. "I don't have a clue, but whatever the reason, it still a major checkpoint with a lot of room." Taking a moment to fix his glasses, Pascal adjusted himself into a more comfortable, crossed position. "There's over a thousand people there, and there's even a security system that was left in place from the military. Plus, because it's underground, they have better shelter against the snow. It's basically the closest thing to heaven on Earth as far as I know." 

"If it really turns out to be as crack up as you say it is, then we'll probably stay..." Sergei admitted with a smile, "But keep in mind, we still need to check it out ourselves." 

"Well, that's your decisions." Said the leader as he took a sip of water. "You two are big kids now. Basically adults looking after your little brother. Hard to believe you used to be knee-high when I saw you both. Especially Sergei who now has a head over me." 

"Oh, quit that!" Sergei chuckled playfully. "Isaac's pushing two hundred and something centimeters. I'd confused him for one of the invaders when I saw him." 

Pascal and Sasha laughed for a bit before the leader stood back up. "I have to get Ivan up to eat his meal. Can't have him passing out midway on us like last time. You'd think he'd learn after the last time." 

"You'd think so," Sasha agreed before watching the bearded, middle-aged man saunter to the sleeping man who was already wrapped up in blankets. 

Sergei also began to rise, taking a moment to stretch. "I'm also going to see if I can squeeze a small nap in before we head off. I hate that we sleep most of the light of day away. Always get to see the sun down, never sun up." 

"I understand the feeling, Sasha said as she watched her older brother head towards the large bundle of blankets sitting atop the circle of bags. 

She returned her attention to the two children playing in the grassy field not too far away, her younger brother and his friend. He was now apparently 'it and was chasing Vera in a circle. She jumped away with a giggle once he had gotten close enough. He was determined though, as he continued to go after her even while heaving in and out. It would only be a matter of time before the two would tucker themselves out and she'd have to make them take a short nap. 

After all, despite the serenity around them, they weren't out of the woods yet, both figuratively and literally. 

They still needed to get there. 

And while she could never forget the surrounding dangers that lurked around in the form of beings as tall as towers, among other things, she could pretend to for a short time as she watched the children play, having a semblance of a childhood she and Sergei weren't able to have. 

Yes, until she got there... 

She could enjoy the moment of peace they had for the time being. 

Who knew how long it would last.     


	2. Chapter 2

The first country that had been attacked was naturally the United States.   
  
It had been a Tuesday when breaking news went worldwide that aliens... _actual extraterrestrial lifeforms_ from  _space,_ had made their presence known in Indianapolis. It was extremely hard for many to comprehend the fact it wasn't a hoax: after all, the so-called "aliens" had looked far too human to be anything else, even as they dwarfed their surroundings such as the cars, streets and buildings, dressed in a black and blue military armor and marched through the streets, the videoed onlookers running for their lives. The Shenirians specifically targeted several of more populated cities: New York City, San Francisco, Chicago...consecutively dwindling the stronghold of the hegemonic nation before attacking the nation's very heart, Washington D.C. In the span of merely five days, the United States had fallen to such a catastrophic disarray, that it felt a bit unreal for an abroad observer to believe.   
  
But it was when other nations were attacked when the threat that literally loomed over their heads became very and dreadfully real.   
  
Russia and China were next, as well as India and France. Then the UK and Germany...Turkey, Japan, the Koreas...it quickly became deducible to know which place would be next by military power and population.    
  
Just which nation and how many were lost on Pascal, as the world became dark when worldwide communication and media began to fall apart just as quickly. With entire countries unable to remain in contact under the seizing of growing Shenirian rule, he just assumed they had already taken over the world, which he soon knew to become fact as the years went on.  
  
Pascal Fyodorova had been in Yakutsk with his brother-in-law when he heard about Moscow. Both of them had been staying in an inexpensive, moderately-sized inn at the time, planning to go snowboarding the very next day when the news blasted their phones only an hour after arrival. They had been watching the news at first from their room, before going downstairs to see a gathering of newcomers, chain-smokers, and off-duty staff members on the main floor watching the very same thing on the large, HD screen television.   
  
The first news reporter was frantically detailing the situation as much as she could as new information was coming in without end, with the Russian military rolling in with tanks and Humvees and the unbelievably tall invaders in human guise towering far away in the background over the rising fires and smoke. More reports of incalculable death and destruction streamed in, and with a disheartening realization, Pascal painfully knew who the victors of this battle, and the battles to come, would be.    
  
The frightening hours of watching the events unfold on screen began to turn into days. They had spent so much time in the lobby, watching the live footage that he didn't know how much time had truly passed when their stay was supposed to end days before. And the hotel staff were not too keen to remind them, in a stunned silence that gave them no room to say anything. And as the aliens began to branch out into other large cities, it became clear that attempting to go anywhere else outside of the icy, obscenely cold city would be quite treacherous, no matter how much he yearned to see the rest of his family.   
  
So, it had been with tear-filled eyes that he, his Hungarian brother-in-law Kadir, and the dozens of displaced people residing in the inn had found themselves being forced to stay for an indeterminate amount of time.   
  
It was an agonizing, regretful decision in the end, that had saved their lives when the city came under. Far from the urbanized parts of the city and hidden by the mountains, the Shenirians never noticed the eighty-odd people hiding away in a snow-covered, four-story inn as they scoured the land.  
  
And, in a rather miraculous way, he saw the old, forgettable, aging inn transform into one of the few safe places left in a land that no longer belonged to them.    
  
Despite the intense and unbearable cold and freezing winters, illnesses, shortages, and deaths to follow during the initial years, the  _Medved Syn's Inn_ had eventually been one of the for few sanctuaries those who sought it, and was built up to become known as one of the two Yakutsk Checkpoints to stand the push of time.   
  
So, it had been a bit of a weird feeling to leave the place he had spent nearly a decade and a half in to go to parts unknown. Leaving Kadir, who was now one of the three people to man the building, and the remaining twenty-nine people into a place that was rumored to be one of the safest checkpoints known.  
  
Leading the silent procession of over forty, shivering people through the crumbling and cracked streets of Saint Petersburg, Pascal kept his eyes peeled for anything to look for.   
  
The once beautiful, colorful city was marred by weather and the passage of time, as there were no longer the people to maintain it's glory. Many of the buildings had been reduced to rubble during the initial attack, left to decay without outside intervention, from either humans or Shenirians. The buildings that were still standing, styled in the sharp, Baroque architecture that once stood proudly before had been slanting and crackling, the edges dulled and the rose windows shattered; a mere shadow of its former glory. Traces of dust and dirt gathered on the stained doors of the smaller buildings around, some showing traces of rot or even uneven. Vegetation crept up through the cracks and fissures in the streets, but were beginning to slowly die as the incoming winter began to make its presence known from the cold. The night sky was beginning to surrender to the rising sun as the blue-hues began to shine through the thick clouds, the break of dawn. While there were several of the people behind them who whispered words of awe and wonder at the ruins around them, most kept quiet, not voicing they're opinions of their surrounding; they were either too tired and anxious, or too cold.  
  
He had followed the map almost exactly, taking the streets accordingly to the outlined path highlighted for him. They avoided the traps and pitfalls hidden throughout the terrain, some as remnants from the battles passed, others set up by the ingenuity of the people within the checkpoint themselves. They had to take detours several times, as pointed out in the notes written on the back of the paper, to avoid a landmine still in place, or to stay clear of an area known where the streets were littered with a dangerous amount of broken and jagged glass. And the walk felt long, only emphasized by the chilled air, allowing him to see his own breath. But they were finally in range and were getting close.   
  
After quite some time, they had reached the Winter Palace, or rather, where it had been.   
  
The building was essentially gone, only a gigantic, surrounding pile of green bricks and marble. The lone parts of the walls that stood were broken and loose, the windows gone. There was barely any sign of the majestic presence it once had, it's historical significance now only to be found in books. Pascal carried a bit of a repressed sadness, knowing that he was looking at something that he had wanted to see a long time ago, but now no longer had the chance to.   
  
Nonetheless, they were in the Palace Square and standing in the center of the paved, brick squares together; just as they were specified to do so and wait.   
  
Pascal managed to take one glance at his people, who were looking around curiously or beginning to talk among themselves when he saw the flash of light to his right.   
  
The white light contrasted with blue as it blinked a few times before remaining on them, not quite blinding him but uncomfortable after walking in mostly darkness.   
  
A vague figure began to walk up, followed by another one. Upon closer inspection, he realized that there were several others as well, hidden behind the PAR lights that encroached on his group. He could only watch as the two figures made their way towards them, and despite the fact he had gone through it several times at several checkpoints, he felt nervous.   
  
The first figure was a woman of average height who looked to be in either her early to mid thirties, with long, dark brown hair styled that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a long, black, belted overcoat with a matching winter visor hat, knee-high boots, and gloves. Her dark blue jeans and the dark green collar of her turtleneck cropped up from the opening of her coat were the only other colors he could see on her.    
  
The second figure was a man, slightly taller than average and much younger. He couldn't have been but a child, probably around Andrei's age when the invasion had occurred, looking no older than twenty-five at most. In contrast to the woman in front of him, he wore a thick, white windbreaker with a white hat over his, short sandy-brown that flayed out a bit, with brown and white furred winter boots, brown gloves, pants, and red and white checkered shirt. His striped black and white muffler tucked around his neck.   
  
And, of course, the most notable thing about the both of them were the assault rifles they had strapped on their backs. Just like the other major checkpoints like the one near the outskirts of Izhevsk and the one between the border of Kazakhstan and Russia, they weren't taking chances. It definitely beat the handguns many in his group were carrying.   
  
The woman stopped in front of Pascal, her green eyes pierced him as she met his. In contrast, her voice was even but not unfriendly when she simply asked, "Yukatsk?"   
  
Pascal nodded before speaking. "Yes. We just came from the Kopino Checkpoint a few days ago. The forty-three of us."   
  
The woman's partner went ahead of her and did a short, routine glance before looking to her. "They match."   
  
"Alright," she said before looking to Pascal. Her features looked rather soft for someone he'd expect as a runner or scout. "So, there's a lot I want to say to you all, but I know you're cold so I'll take you guys to the Checkpoint first."   
  
"That's very much appreciated," he said as a chorus of relieved sighs and words were heard behind him from his group.   
  
"I'd figured," she then turned towards the man with a broken arm, who jumped when her eyes fell on him. "You, the one with the injury...you're going to have to go with Yuri here," she told him, gesturing to the man in the white coat, "He'll take you to one of the other entrances since the main one's might not be easy for you to get down. Also...," her eyes went back to the group leader, "Which ones are diabetic?"   
  
"Ivan and Roman. Roman's the older one, Ivan's the one in the back."   
  
"To be safe, I'll have them go with Yuri as well. The rest of you guys should be in good order though." She gave the affirmative to her partner, who beckoned the aforementioned three people to break away from the group and follow him. The three did, with Ivan, grumbling under his breath about "uselessness," or something or other from what little Pascal could hear, tailed behind.   
  
They went past the light and few of the figures that were behind the light followed from behind. They disappeared from sight once they were far enough, hidden by the rubble and walls of fallen buildings. It wasn't the first time the ones who either sustained an injury or ill had to take a different way, so Pascal didn't feel very worried at their departure.   
  
The woman looked back at them and spoke to the rest, "Follow me. we're going in through the Admiralteyskaya subway. It's a pretty short walk, but getting inside takes some time. You'll see what I mean."   
  
"I take your word for it...uh...?" Pascal trailed, not knowing the woman's name.   
  
"Zhanna. Zhanna Ankundinov. Sorry, I forgot to mention it." she answered, raising her hand with a smile to shake his hand.   
  
He took it, and returned the smile.   
  
"Pascal Fyodorova. Sorry, I'm a worse offender. I should have introduced myself first." Pascal said first before turning back to his people who had sent he friendly exchange. "Everyone, we're following Zhanna to the checkpoint. We're nearly there."   
  
The crowd behind him raised their hands and began to celebrate before the woman, eyes narrowing and stance straightened, barked, "Keep  _quiet!"  
  
_ And, just as quickly, the group became quiet, with many of them eyeing the woman with confusion at her sudden outburst.   
  
Her voice was much softer and less abrasive when she began to explain. "We are not at the checkpoint,  _yet._ Also, this city isn't completely safe. The Shenirian drones do come to these parts from time to time. They can detect sound from a distance, so don't get too loud while we're out here. Wait until we get to the checkpoint, and once everything all said and done..." she then smiled congenially, "...then you can celebrate as loud as you want."   
  
The cheer was rejuvenated, but was much quieter and subdued and Pascal could tell that the woman was fighting back a smile.   
  
He waved his people forward, the feeling of nearly reaching the end of their long journey filling him with joy. "Let's go."   
  
With renewed enthusiasm, the all went forward and the two lone remaining people behind the light shut if off, giving way to the rising orange hues of the sun. Following both Pascal and Zhanna out of the brick yard towards what would be the final destination to some, and the second to last for others.  
  
As they walked closer to the nearest station, Pascal felt pride well up in his heart.   
  
Despite losing three people early during their journey, they had accomplished what had been thought to be the impossible: cross from one end of Russia to the other mostly on foot. The three had fallen victim to the harsh cold: one being a lanky man who had had a rather foul mouth, one being Andrei's grandmother whom and the other one of the original staff members from the inn. It had happened in a span of two days towards the middle of March. He had to truly convince himself to not go back the way he came, knowing that if they did, with most of the remaining people wanting to press forward, it all would have been for nothing. After all, it had been Andrei's grandmother who had wanted to return to her home city. He felt that he be doing a great disservice heading back after a month of walking.   
  
Expecting more losses, he was astounded by the resilience of his group who went through snow, rain, sleet and hail to keep going. Wild  animals, exhaustion, and the changing temperatures hindered them, but didn't stop them from going forward. They all moved with a fortitude, that he had sometimes felt a bit unworthy in leading them.   
  
He had felt so proud.   
  
Although it was a short walk, it was finally daybreak when they arrived to a lopsided building that looked somewhat caved in. There was a tear in the wall which led to an abandoned and empty interior, which Zhanna and the other two men who had followed the group from behind, had gestured for them to go inside.   
  
They did, following the woman through a series of corridors and hallways.   
  
Pascal's mind blanched.  
  
Where the escalators had been was a mountain of rubble that covered the escalators from the third and fourth steps down. They were stacked so high, he couldn't make out anything beyond them, from above the rubble or below. a part of the lopsided ceiling was strewn across it.   
  
It was blocked.   
  
"We're here."   
  
Pascal, as well as several other members turned to the woman who calmly looked at the massive wreckage that looked to be caving in the escalator steps. She regarded it all nonchalantly before turning back to the group. "We're at the entrance."   
  
"Y-you're kidding, right?" A voice in the back cried out, sounding incredulous.   
  
Another voice was heard, this one clearly feminine. "The escalators blocked off! Just how the hell do you think we can get down from there?"   
  
"Are they really the runners for the Saint Petersburg Checkpoint? They're screwing with all of us!" A clearly angry voice called out, along with others.  
  
"We have numbers! We can definitely take them! Bandits!"   
  
Pascal's voice was hard and stern and cut through the rising, aggravated shouts like a blade.  _"Everyone,_ settle down. Now."   
  
The voices gradually died down, until all that could be heard were the chirping outside and the sounds of low whispers. Pascal turned back around to look down at the woman, who looked only mildly annoyed. "I apologize. It's been a long trip. But, in all honesty, what is the meaning of this?"   
  
"Well," the woman began as she crossed her arms and looked at the group reproachfully, "Before you guys got riled up, I was going to explain to you it all, but instead, I'll just show you so you all won't get your panties in a knot."   
  
Pascal watched at the woman approached one of the escalator ends and stood beside one of the lopsided railings, in front of the first step. She rose a foot, and just when he thought she was going to step down a step, she instead tapped her foot beside the yellow strip hard. He repeated the process in a short, rhythmic pattern of exactly twelve steps before taking a step back.  
  
There was a short moment of silence until Pascal heard a small  _clink_ from below, and the panel in front of the step and next to her feet lifted up and to the side. A man, robust and short, easily in his fifties, pushed himself up from the opening and stretched, catching the group off guard for a moment as they watched him step out and rest against the wall.   
  
"You got an impatient bunch, you know that?" The man muttered to Pascal, who realized about a few seconds later that he was being addressed.   
  
"We're just a bit cold and hungry. But...uh..." he turned his head to look at the unscalable wreckage on top of the escalators, "...We honestly thought it was blocked off. It looked like there was no way to get in."   
  
The man smirked. "That's the point. Now then..."   
  
The short man nodded to Zhanna, who picked up from there.   
  
"This is the real entrance to the Checkpoint. Well, one of them." She looked up at the escalator steps that were clogged with bricks, dirt and glass. "Can't have such an obvious looking thing like one of the world's deepest metros in full view, right? I heard that's what happened in Moscow. Or an obvious way down it for that matter. So, we take the repairman's way:  _under_ the escalator." She turned to the aging man, who had his hands in his pockets as he stared at the group. "You can thank David by the way. He used to work in this subway. He's one of the reasons this place managed to last this long."   
  
"You can stop praising me now and lead them in. I'm getting kind of cold up here." David said, his lips still drawn in a smile. "But keep at it when we get down there?"   
  
She gave a friendly, teasing smile. "Don't fish for compliments, old man. Being a stickler doesn't suit you."   
  
"What can I say? I love the sound of my voice." David laughed before gesturing his head to the group. "It's a bit of a squeeze, not to mention dark, so only go in one at a time. Also, it's going to be a  _looooong_  climb down, so you might get a bit of a backache from this. Not as bad as going up though, which makes your legs tired.  _Oh!_  And I hope none of you are claustrophobic. If you are, this isn't going to be fun for you... _at all."  
  
_ "B-but..." a voice in the crowd began, filled with hesitance, "There's so much stuff on the escalators! Won't it collapse on us?"   
  
"It may be hard to believe but these escalators can really withstand a lot more than the outside of the this...'building' can. Plus, if it were to collapse, it would have done so by now. We put a lot on these steps but not enough for it all to cave in...just yet anyway."   
  
"Alright," Zhanna cut in, "The one of the sentries goes in first before me," she turned to the leader of the group, "Pascal, you and your people come down after me. Make sure no one rushes. The other sentry and David comes in after all of you. He needs to lock the panel back into place. And be careful not to slide."   
  
And, without a word, the first sentry moved from behind the group and to the opening. Carefully lowering himself in, he pulled out his flashlight before he crawled down the crevice, shuffling down backwards. Zhanna was next and followed suit, lowering herself before crawling in the same manner the sentry had. Although she was gone from sight, her voice could still be heard. "Alright Pascal, it's your turn."   
  
Pascal nodded before turning to his group. "When you can't see the next person when they go under, go in."   
  
And with that, he walked to the opening of the escalator and lowered himself in. Avoiding knicking his head on where the inverted and smoothed steps were, he knelt down and extended his legs backwards. He felt the slope and slowly began to climb downwards. After a few slides backwards, he saw a pair of legs from one of the members of his group come down from the entrance and slowly began to make their way downwards, their body blocking out the light from the opening with the extremely dim flashlight belonging to the sentry barely lighting the passage.   
  
Soon, one by one, many people were entering the hole and slowly making their way down. Pascal. from his position, couldn't really make out anyone aside from the back of the person in front of him. The sound of shuffling legs and arms thumping against metal was all that was he could hear. David had been right: it was a tight and uncomfortable squeeze. He was beginning to feel a slight cramping feeling in his lower back and calves. Not to mention that it was quite a far way down in mostly darkness. Getting back up from it would be a bigger obstacle when the time would come to leave.   
  
It took several long and agonizing minutes, but he soon saw a light coming up from behind him. Once he was able to get enough light to see the person's legs in front him once more, he heard Zhanna say, "You can stand now."   
  
He did, though, as David guessed correctly, his back did hurt and when he finally stepped out, he stretched and pressed against his lower back to release tension. The next person, a slightly younger, pudgier man, did the same.   
  
He could hear voices. More voices than he had heard outside his group in quite a while.   
  
Slowly but surely, his fellow sojourners began to climb out from the dark tunnel passage and to the intermediate platform. He had to help a few people to stand and come out, including tiny Samuil and Vera. Sergei had climbed out after Sasha, with Mikhael following after them, the older siblings helping out the youngest and his friend, Andrei. Maxim was the last of his group to come out before the next sentry. David, the final person, came out of the opening and closed the panel behind himself with an exhausted sigh.   
  
Pascal, watching the rest of his group work out the kinks in their own bodies, stifled a laugh before turning his head to look around, releasing that they were on the intermediate platform rather than fully below just yet. However, the top of the escalator was fully uncovered aside from residual traces of dust and dirt. Zhanna tapped him on the shoulder and gestured him to go below. He nodded, and went down towards the second escalator, happy that he didn't have to repeat the same process. Several people who had finished stretching followed him down, and they made their way towards the bottom floor.   
  
Pascal found himself gaping.   
  
Ornate and reasonably lit, the metro station shined with life. While slightly unkempt, the place was intact with a large clock, the marble interior was still amazingly intact and, while jaded slightly, shone under the lights. The rich designs were all around them in a mix of pink, purple and brown swirls all around. It was hard to believe a place like this had been able to manage it's beauty for so long.    
  
 _"More importantly..."_    
  
There were more people, by the dozens, traversing across the slightly cracked marble floors and talking with one another in the arched paths.   
  
They were talking, laughing, chatting. There were chairs and tables and lights all around, with people there. The most people he had seen in one place in a very,  _very_ long time. It was loud, and crowded and filled with life.  
  
As Pascal and his people looked around in absolute awe, Zhanna walked down the stairs and stood in front of the group.   
  
Seeing their amazement, something Pascal guessed was a normal reaction to those first coming, she smiled.   
  
"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome to the Saint Petersburg Checkpoint."   
  


\----- 

Artur Maliszkewicz couldn't really say so much he was interested in meeting the newcomers so much as he wanted to figure just how in the hell they managed to get from the coldest city on the planet to one of the westernmost Checkpoints in Russia without getting found by the Shenirian watchers the entire way through. He absolutely  _had_ to know their secret. To get twenty people moving at once was usually risky, forty was nearly unheard of. At least, in his experience from staying in the St. Petersburg metro systems for as long as he did, which was saying quite alot as he was apart of the first wave of people to take refuge here nine years ago after is was discovered it was mainly untouched, unlike the Moscow Metro which had been completely ravaged almost immediately.   

He brought a hand to futilely slick back the loose, wispy black hairs from his face to keep them from obscuring his glasses before looking at Viktor, who was leaning against the wall, holding a sheet of paper: the finished, deciphered message from the Estonian Checkpoint. They had received the message that the runner, who was biking the decaying rails of the Baltic trains, from their checkpoint should also arrive within a few hours time if all goes according to plan. Chao was still working on the other message in the office, something Artur really needed to find some way to make it up to the guy. 

He put down his pencil after writing down the events to come and looked at the office board that was filled to the brim with ration details, necessities and things to do and issue out. "They made record time. I'm serious, they  _really_ made record time." 

"Who are you telling?" Viktor asked rhetorically, flapping the paper in his hand. "For someone who hasn't really been to the west coast, this Pascal guy should really be a checkpoint runner. In any case, Yuri and the others brought down the other three through the other route so they're all down here now. Malvina gave the diabetics the byetta, but the younger one's still dead tired. That man's an actual trooper. I want to know  _his_  story." 

"So do I," Artur agreed, standing up from his chair, "All of their's actually. In any case, can you see if Xavier and Taavetti finished setting up the one's who are staying for good in _Dostoyevskaya?_ I'd asked Aladiy, since that's his job, but he's still getting over a virus..." 

"Sure thing," said the older, taller man. While Artur was young, only a couple months shy of thirty, he definitely showed more leadership qualities than many of the older people there. "But you might want to have wanted to have them moved there instead of have a speech here. you know Lev and Kristoff were miffed they had to move their chess match to the tunnels." 

"It's only a few minute orientation, they can come right back to it," The raven-haired man assured, "They'll be be alright in time." 

Viktor merely shrugged his shoulders and went to the adjust one of the radios to reach the station over. "If you say so, in any case, you really should get going. They're tired as hell and have been waiting for the longest time." 

"I know, that's why I'm on my way now," the younger man informed and walked towards the door as Viktor began adjust the CB radio to the closest office. 

Having lived in St. Petersburg for most of his life, before the invasion occurred when he was just a young teenager, he was one of the most knowledgeable people in the metro who knew everything about the underground operations; exceptionally helped by the fact that his father, who was now in charge of the  _Lesnaya_ metro, was also one of the train conductors at the time and one of the few people who knew the ins and outs of the majority of the stations whereabouts and functions. So, although it was with reluctance in the beginning, he had been appointed to run the  _Admiralteyskaya_  metro, despite only have been in his early twenties at the time.  

So, in a different sense, while there had been many survivors who had taken refuge from many different places, he still felt, very oddly, at home. Knowing which tunnel led to which, what station was bigger than which, which room served as which...he knew it all, now even more than ever due to his extended stay there. 

When he reached the lower lobby, he saw all of the forty-three Yakutsk strangers gathered in the center, talking among themselves. Zhanna, Yuri and three others from the other station were in the back, merely observing. Some looked very tired, no doubt wanting to sleep. Others looked rather eager, excited even, just to be in a relatively large place to look explore. And then there were the anxious bunch, who probably still felt strange being in a new environment. As he walked; however, his eyes laid upon a few of the children that were in the mix of people: one being a young girl with chestnut hair in a long braid and a light blue coat who was standing between two adults; another a boy with blonde hair and a pair of earmuffs and a thick, tanned coat who was obscured by two equally blond but older people, and one with a dark, red hat and even darker coat who was in the very back, tugging at a man's hand. He could barely make out the fourth one, who was tucked in the center of the crowd but he didn't focus for too long and instead walked to the front. 

All eyes fell on him as he walked halfway up the steps and faced himself towards them, taking a quick assessment of his audience before he called out. "May I have your attention, please?" 

The chattering waned before all went quiet, letting him knew that he had their attention. 

He took a look at a tall, almost middle-aged man standing towards the edge, whom he had assumed was Pascal, the leader of the group before he looked at the people once more. He spoke, making sure his voice was loud and clear for all to hear. 

"You've probably heard this before, but I'll say it again for you to hear: Welcome to the Saint Petersburg Checkpoint. According to you and the other Checkpoint stops, you've traveled from very far away...Yakutsk form what I've heard. First, I must say congratulations for making it this far." 

The room remained mostly quiet, but he could hear a few whispers from the crowd on the platform. He went on, cutting them off. 

"As procedure with all checkpoints, let me reiterate what you need to know if you're going to stay in Saint Petersburg: this is one of the largest and relatively safest checkpoints known, but that is because everyone here must see to it that it _remains_ that way. Do not forget, up above is where some of the drones wander. We still need to take every precaution we can to ensure we don't get discovered. So, listen up." 

He pointed further up, their eyes following his finger to the ceiling for a second before realizing he was going to talk about the surface. 

"First rule: You are allowed to walk to any station you wish. However, you must take the tunnels. Going above ground without a runner or scout, and of course without permission, is strictly forbidden. While this won't apply to many of you for long, given that twenty-nine of you plan to head to Estonia in a few days, but while you're here, the rule still stands. Don't endanger us just to get some sun. You will be penalized." 

"Second," he went on, "We will supply rations twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. Meet on the lower platforms to receive your fill. We know  _exactly_ how many people are in here so do not try to go for seconds by pretending you didn't get your ration. We do remember faces and will withhold your next ration as punishment." 

He heard a small groan, and fought the urge to send a glare to one of the men in the back. 

"Finally, although I  _really_  shouldn't have to say this, given that most of you are more than old enough to know by now since only a few of you are children:  _get along."_ Artur snarled a bit at the memories of several incidents that took place under his watch, "We are fair. Everyone will receive proper bedding, rations, and treatment so long as they warrant it. If you have a problem with someone, come to either me, Zhanna or Yuri and we'll deal with it. If you see a fight escalate, let us know immediately so we can break it up. We've seen blood shed in this place over silly things like an old grudge or because someone wanted a greater share of food. It's stupid, it's avoidable and it has no place here." His eyes narrowed to emphasize his point, "We must cooperate by all means. After all, there are  _literally_  bigger problems we have on our hands to deal with, and they aren't going anywhere anytime soon."   

The crowd remained quiet, the sound of air travelling through was the only thing that could be heard outside of breathing. Artur's face softened once it became clear they were paying attention. 

"Alright, with all that is said and done, let me ask: how many of you are actually planning to stay here in Petersburg?" 

Fourteen hands raised, including two belonging to the the diabetic older man and the one with his other arm in a cast, and he nodded.

"Okay, so for the lot of you, let me just say that we're currently taking care of everything for you. You will currently be staying in the  _Dostoyevskaya metro_ unless you ask otherwise. Yuri will show you where you will rest, bathe and eat. It is a thirty minute walk from here through the tunnels at most. After we give you your rations, follow him and he will take you there. We'll discuss everything else tomorrow after you've settled in." 

Placing his hands in his pockets, he addressed the rest, "For those who are planning to go to the Estonian Checkpoint, you will remain here instead. The runner for the checkpoint should be here not too long from now. Zhanna will take you guys back up when the time comes for you to head out. Until then, as I said before, you will abide by our rules for the time being. Because you will be here for three days, you are allowed to go through the subway systems like the residents, but I highly advise you not to go too far. You must be here when the times comes for you to depart so that no one gets left behind." He looked at the group leader, Pascal he recalled, and nodded. "I'm pretty sure your own leader will see to that." 

"That I will," the older man said, returning the nod. 

"In any case," Artur began with a smile, "-are there any questions?" 

Almost immediately, a few hands rose. Artur selected the woman with graying hair in the forefront, "Yes?" 

The woman lowered her hand and asked in a jittery, soft voice, "You s-s-said drones come around these p-parts? Do you mean...n-n-near the stations?" 

"Usually, no. There are Shenirian drones that come around the city a few times a year to do a search, but they've never gotten close to finding our location. Our scouts and runners have scramblers and are very skilled with avoiding detection when they are here. Also, as you've seen for yourself, the entrances here are not in obvious. We are well hidden down here. Next?" 

He selected a hand belonging to a man who looked to be around his age, more or less. 

The man's voice was heavy and deep. "I doubt that all the stations are intact. Are there any places that are too worn down or we can't get to?" 

Artur nodded his head. "Several of the  _Obvodny Kanal metros_  are completely collapsed in and can't be accessed normally. Also, V3 is cut off at _Yelizarovskaya metro,_ so you can't get further than  _Aleksandra_ going that way. Other than that, most subways are mostly intact and you shouldn't have a problem getting to the other stations, but it will take you a long time." 

Another hand rose and Artur saw it was from a very tall young blond man that practically towered over the majority of the rest of the group. He chose him immediately. 

"My sister, brother and I aren't completely sure if we will go to Estonia or would like to remain here. Are we allowed to decide whether to stay or go while we're here or is it set in stone?" 

Artur pulled his hands out his pockets and answered him. "You can choose to stay here or not during your time here. If you do decide to stay, let either Zhanna or I know and we will make arrangements. You have about three days to decide so be sure to catch one of us as soon as you make your decision. Until then, we're assuming that you're heading out with the majority." 

The raven-haired man scuffed his boot on the step. "Are there any more questions? No?" 

No more hands raised. Seeing this, he stepped down the stairs. And gestured for the eight people who were waiting with large, leather bags filled to the brim with apples and filled canteens of water to walk to the crowd whose numerous pairs of eyes lighting up at the sight of nourishment. 

Artur smiled, walking to Pascal whom took his hand in a friendly shake. 

"Now then, before anything else, let's get some food in you all." 

\----- 

In contrast to the  _Admiralteyskaya metro,_ the  _Devyatkino metro_ was mostly standard and plain. But because of its distance away from the center, it was the least populated of the  _metros_ with only ninety-two people residing in it, allowing for more elbow room and freedom than the rest. Because of this, it was one of the more relaxed parts of the Petersburg Checkpoint, in contrast to the sometimes more animated ones near the central. 

Iachimo and Caddarik stood outside in the partial ruins of the above surface building, looking at the remains of apartments and business-owned buildings in the distance. The sky, which formerly had been a little brighter not long ago, was now overcast. It was still cold, but they were shielded by the winds by the walls that were still standing. 

Iachimo, older and shorter, was smoking a cigarette that one of the runners from his checkpoint had managed to get him for a share of his own rations as his partner, who was only a little bit younger but a good deal heftier, kept looking on at the buildings with a tired gaze. 

The slightly younger man grabbed his attention when he spoke, "You know, I think it might be possible to expand this place during the spring. I'm pretty sure there are a lot more furnishings in some of the apartment buildings around. It'll be a bitch to bring them over though." 

"I don't know," Iachimo commented, blowing out some smoke that dissipated in the air. "We can if it's okay with everyone else, but there isn't really much reason for it, in my opinion. Compared to the rest, there isn't that many people." 

"I don't mean this place in particularly," Caddarik said, eyes still looking forward, "I mean, outside the metro. To the buildings, I mean. They don't come around these parts like they used to...I think it's getting...safer, I guess." 

"The drones were spotted around the outskirts, so I don't know about that." 

"But that's the thing," the heftier man pointed out, "They've been  _staying_ in the outskirts. Most of the time, anyways. I'm beginning to think that the giants...Shenirians...that they don't think we're around here. That they've got everyone." 

"...No," the older man said sullenly, shaking his head and taking the half-finished cigarette out his mouth for a moment. "If that were the case, then the drones wouldn't be lingering here." His gray-blue eyes became hard. "I think they know...something's up. Or that some of us are here...but I don't think they know where or how many." 

"I'm surprised, that we haven't seen them in person yet. Just the robots...never the people. You'd think that they would have raised this whole city to pieces like they did Moscow and Novosibirsk...how did we get so damn  _lucky?"_  

"I don't think it's really luck...truth be told, I don't know." Iachimo answered honestly. "Maybe they just didn't feel like it...or maybe this place has become a historical landmark of conquest or...I don't know."

Caddarik was quiet for a moment, pensively looking at the dulled, crumbling buildings ahead. "What's their aim?" 

"Hm?" 

"Their aim," Caddarik repeated, facing forward as if he was looking at something that could only be seen by him. "They looked like us, right? I mean, they're huge and all but... _why?"_

Iachimo had thought about that many times in the beginning, and eventually had learned to stop. It was obvious that  _they_  wouldn't give them any answers. and there would be no way for him to find out on his own. So it was a question he couldn't answer, and would probably be left unanswered for as long as he knew. 

It was silent mostly, as both were lost in thoughts. 

However, something small, moving and white entered Iachimo's field of vision, causing him to look up. They only increased, as more began to fill his vision in wisps. 

"Cad, look up." 

His partner, after a moment did so, and focused on the sky. 

"Well then...it's a bit early, isn't it? Thought we'd have a few more weeks to go." 

"Me too." 

The two men looked up at the clouds, watching in silence as the first traces of the early winter snow began to slowly drift down. 


End file.
